By Any Other Name
by Neferit
Summary: He never truly told her what the word he started to use in relation to her meant, for he had been coward first, and too late second. Kink meme fill. Complete.


**A/N:** There was this prompt over at dragonage_kink meme:

_Soooo, according to Iron Bull, 'kadan' means 'my heart'. Did the Warden know that Sten's affection for her went THAT deeply? Did he lie about the exact translation of 'kadan'? Fill where Sten actually falls in love with the Warden, but due to his culture and upbringing, never admits it outloud, or gives anyone reason to suspect greater feelings. Would love a f!Tabris, but any f!Warden is great._

That hit me right in the inspired bone.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Sadly.

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**By Any Other Name**

He never truly told her what the word he started to use in relation to her meant, for he had been coward first, and too late second.

She had been many things.

Curious.

Maddening.

Fighter.

Noble.

Woman.

Taken.

Queen.

But most of all, she had been _kadan_.

When she let him out of the cage where his own mistakes imprisoned him in, she actually gave him a smile, when she welcomed him in their company, and it was her who handed him a sword, looking him deeply in the eyes, her whole behaviour that of a leader, authoritative and unafraid.

Her eyes. It was so strange to see eyes of such a particular shade of blue.

It was she who started to talk to him; the rest of the group keeping their distance, at least in the beginning. Only she would come and engage him in talk, her hound sometimes joining them, resting by her side, as she refused to leave him be, pestering him with questions.

How maddening had those questions been, and how cherished those moments came to be.

She was a curious being, challenging him and his views, refusing to back down from what she viewed right, standing up to him, the force of her personality making him back down. She was just like the warrior queen on one of the paintings she found for him - proud and brave, her features a masterpiece of nature, for she had been beautiful even to his alien eyes.

He never had anything he could give her back for all those gifts she found for him, most of all his sword, his Asala.

It felt as if it had been yesterday, the moment she ran to him, as he had been practicing with the soldiers in the Redcliffe, and nearly dragged him to his room in the castle. And there she was, lying on the table, covered by cloth, leaving only the handle stick out, so he would know what treasure got the woman so excited for him to see.

He called her ashkaari that day, and kadan the next, leaving the question in her eyes unanswered until she came to him and asked him with words.

And he lied. Not directly, for that would be unbefitting to him and to her, but by omitting part of the truth.

He told her that kadan means 'friend'. What he didn't tell her was that it also meant someone who would be close to his heart, _be_ his heart; cherished above everything, for telling her so would only hurt her.

It wasn't as if her own heart had been free to give anymore, after all.

The whole matter of civil war came to an end, and her relationship with her fellow Warden had been announced in public. He would became the King, and she would become his Queen. But for that, they had yet to survive the Blight itself, and he vowed to himself to protect her and him at any cost, so the future they planned to have together would come to be.

It was him, the elf and the witch she took with her into the city invaded by darkspawn, fighting their way to the Fort Drakon, where the Archdemon had been forced to land. And he could see how afraid she was at that moment. Only once he allowed himself to touch her, outside of the touch reserved for making sure she was alive and her injuries taken care of, and it was this once; laying a hand on her shoulder, causing her to look up at him.

"You carried us this far," he told her, feeling her straightening up under his hand. "Do not doubt yourself now."

Together, their small group fought their way up to the mighty fortress, and with their allies attacked the Archdemon itself. After a battle that stretched on for what seemed like eternity, the dragon finally showed signs of becoming weaker, and his kadan tore a sword out of a body of a dead darkspawn and raced to meet her fate, slashing the dragon's neck open and stabbing the sword through its skull.

And then it was over.

The whole country had been celebrating the victory at Denerim, cheering at the new King being crowned and a Hero being named and probably paraded around. Everyone was sticking around for the coronation, and most of them promised to either stay or return for the royal wedding.

Everyone but him.

He remained for the coronation, watching the young man he often viewed as weak proudly walk up the stairs, accept the blessing and the crown, before he turned back and cheers erupted, not stopping for a few minutes.

She walked up the stairs as well, her movement uncertain at times, as her wounds were still on mend, and he thought she never looked more beautiful, than at that moment - proud, victorious, and so alive.

They said their farewells to each other few days later at the docks, before he was to board the ship. The journey before him was to be very long, made even longer without the companions he grew so accustomed to, without their incessant chatter, petty arguments and strange jokes.

She gave him a sealed tube, asking him to look inside once he gave his report to the Arishok, and then she hugged him. Unused to such open show of affection, he stood awkwardly in her embrace for a second, before he slowly wrapped his arms around her much smaller frame, pressing her to him for the first and also last time.

"May you always find the path you seek," she told him, repeating the words he told her few days ago. The signal to board the ship sounded and he watched her becoming smaller and smaller, as the ship moved into the sea.

Many months later, he finally broke the seal on the tube she gave him. Inside had been a rolled-up paper, with a detailed sketch of their group together around the fire; the bard playing lute and singing, _kadan_ and her by-this-time husband were dancing, like the elderly mage and the elf, the witch of the Wilds watching them with indulgent smirk, and the dwarf had been leaning against the hound, just watching what was happening and obviously shouting suggestions for the dancing pairs. He was there as well, sitting by the fire, Asala in his lap, as he took care of his blade, his lips wearing the smallest of smiles as he watched his companions making fools out of themselves.

He never told her how much she meant to him, but it was just as well. He would never fit into her world, just as she wouldn't fit into his.

Yet she would forever remain his _kadan_, the being closest to his heart.


End file.
